Pictures of Slumber
by GrapePudding
Summary: From abstract randomness to their worst nightmares... The untold dreams of the characters of Ace Attorney. 3. What haunts the fearless Agent Lang during the darkest of nights? Genres apply to latest chapter. Ratings K-T
1. Phoenix's Nightmare

So... This first chapter is my pathetic attempt at humour, but just ends up being sort of sick and horrific xD Not to mention totally random. And the writing is also rather rushed. Ah well.

This one is just plain silly, but expect some good ol' fluff in future updates hehe. And probably more randomness xD It IS the chaos of the minds of characters from _Ace Attorney_ of all things after all.

Feel free to give me prompts/requests :D Maybe it'll prevent me from doing more weird stuff like this first chapter.. Or maybe you'll prompt me to write something even weirder O.o

Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, do not own Ace Attorney.

This chapter is rated T.

* * *

><p>I stare in awe at her lovely doll-like face. I ignore how strikingly similar this raven-haired angel's face is to that of a certain fiery demon whom I once called my true love. That was an eternity ago. That was a past that is now behind us. This is the present, and in this present, I hold this angel's face in my hands, and stare into her beautiful eyes. I lean down slowly, tilting her head slightly upwards. I am close, so close, to her soft lips.<p>

_So close..._

Suddenly, she smiles in that impossibly sweet way of hers, and whispers, almost sinisterly, "Feenie..." I blink, startled for a moment. Something seems off about her. The tips of our noses are nearly touching—that's how close we are. Her smile widens, and I notice that her teeth are unnaturally sharp, like fangs of a bloodthirsty demon...

And suddenly, her raven hair becomes a familiar bright red colour, and then her hair is no long hair, but flickering flames that lick my cheeks and burn my eyes. I yelp in surprise, but I find I am unable to let go of her face, nor am I even able to put any distance between us.

_Agh...! _I scream in my head. _Not _her!_ Anyone but..._

"Feenie," she coos again. Except the voice isn't hers. The velvety smooth voice is only all too familiar, and to my horror I realize that it is no longer Dahlia whose face I am holding almost against my own, but a certain cravat-wearing prosecutor. A strangled scream escapes my lips as I become aware of my body pressed against his silky magenta suit, and his citrusy breath floating lazily into my face. I try to wrench myself away from him, but it is like we are glued together...

_This... This can't get much worse...!_

I find myself yearning for the redheaded demon once again. _Anyone but Edgeworth._

My prayers are answered... in part. Twisted around me is no longer my rival's body, but the body of... an alien? Is that a space suit? Then, I shriek a high-pitched shriek more impressive than even Ron DeLite's, but anybody would react this way if they found themselves nose to nose with and nearly kissing the terror that is Wendy Oldbag.

"Edgey-poo won't return my calls, so I suppose I'll settle for you, whippersnapper," she purrs, sending me a sudden blast of her prune-scented breath.

"G... Gerroff me!" I yell as I desperately try to shove myself away from her. But just like earlier, it is as though her body is stuck to mine.

I watch with a somewhat detached sense of terror as Oldbag morphs from her frightening wrinkly self into Larry Butz ("I've dated all the women I know, Nick! So now all I've got left is you!"), to Damon Gant ("I promised we'd go swimming one day, Wrighto!"), to the Blue Badger.

_When will this ever stop? _I moan inwardly as the lovechild of the Chief Detective's twisted design ideas and Gumshoe's crude manufacturing skills wriggles around me in that horribly familiar awkward way. _Th-This has to be the last of it, right?_

Next thing I know, I'm holding the small body of Pearl Fey in my arms. "P-Pearls!" I gasp. I'm so relieved, so thankful that it's finally all over...

She gazes up at me with her large dark eyes, so unnaturally wise and solemn for a girl of her age. "Mr. Nick..." she begins. "Even though you love Mystic Maya, I must profess my true love for you!"

"Wha...?"

"Is this what you call a 'love triangle'? I... I love you, Mr. Nick!"

She leans in to press her small lips against my own.

I wake up screaming at the top of my lungs. I look around, and am comforted by the realization that I am back inside my small bedroom, tangled only with the sheets of my bed.

_It... It was all just a dream, _I think, my immense relief saturating even the tone of my internal voice.

That's when I hear it. "Y'all gonna leave a poor girl waiting, city boy?"

I look beside me in bed to find a familiar red afro.

I scream.

And my nightmare begins all over again...

* * *

><p>Jeez, Phoenix, what have you been eating? xD Anyways, reviews are always appreciated! Even for odd stuff like this :D<p>

~GrapePudding


	2. Simply Fabulous

So.. I'm back! I'd like to thank you people who reviewed and/or subscribed! Really. Thank you so much! ^^

This chapter is a drastic change from the last one haha. Enter: the dream of Maximillion Galactica. This was a request from GreatThiefYatagarasuJR! Thank you for your request! I wouldn't have thought of this chapter without it.

I will probably post Lang's nightmare next. I'm sorry I didn't get to that request sooner, it's just that inspiration struck me rather suddenly for Max XD

Disclaimer: I do not own Ace Attorney.

This chapter is rated K.

* * *

><p>Maximillion Galactica's life was, in his own words, absolutely <em>fabulous<em>.

He was a _fabulous_ magician with a _fabulous_ number of fans, he had _fabulous _piles of money that he didn't even know what to do with (not that that ever stopped him from asking for more), and to top it all off, he had his very own _fabulous _sweetie-pie. Max even had friends in the form of his colleagues at the circus now, although he wouldn't deem them _fabulous_ just yet—but with the great Max Galactica's help, how could they_ not_ rise to the top someday, and someday soon?

However, when Max shed his magician's attire at night and slipped under the (_fabulous_) silky covers of his bed and laid his head on the (_fabulously_) soft and expensive pillow, what he dreamed of was not the dazzling stage lights, mountains of money, and endless stream of screaming fans that you would expect... Well, not _all_ the time, anyways. As Max's eyes closed and his body gave in to sleep, he was taken on a journey to a less-travelled part of his mind, drifting to a place far in his past, a simpler place, where the cloak, silk hat, and white roses no longer defined who he was. Where the name Maximillion Galactica did not even exist.

The surprisingly familiar smell of cow manure and crisp early morning air filled his nostrils, and the sight of a small field of crops and a picturesque little red barn filled his eyes. He relived hazy recollections of milking a cow, feeding pigs, unintentionally obtaining a white moustache as he drank from a glass bottle of fresh milk.

Some feelings made a larger impression on Max's mind than others. Shards of memories, fleeting moments from a time long past floated lazily through his mind as he continued to slumber. An autumn leaf crumbling in the palm of his hand; the tickle of the soft green grass, still wet with dew, against the soles of his bare feet; his ears perking slightly at the whispering of the wind as it passed through the naked branches of nearby trees.

Max delved deeper still into his sleeping mind. Clear as day were the sounds and sights of the throaty laugh of a large man with a large belly, and the feather-light voice of an apron-wearing woman singing softly as she sat by Max's bed. Suddenly, Max felt very young and very small again.

He reached out a small hand to a bundle of pink blankets cradled in his mother's arms, and watched as an even smaller doll-like hand emerged from said blankets. Max grasped the tiny fingers, awed, as only a child could be, at how soft and warm they were.

And then he was collapsing on a newly raked pile of leaves, grinning at the loud and satisfying crunching noise he caused. A giggling little girl fell next to him. Max laughed and threw leaves at her, except when she shrieked in indignation and retaliated, she didn't call him "Max", but "Billy"...

The scene whirled and spun into a new one, where Max was lolling around on a pile of hay in the barn, holding a conversation with the little girl and his favourite cow Bessie. And then he was smiling at the delighted giggle that erupted once again from the little girl's lips as he performed simple sleight-of-hand tricks for her, calling himself "The Fabulous Billy". Then it was suddenly wintertime, and Max and the little girl were laughing together as they rolled around in the snow.

And then at last, the final scene in the warm little place at the back of Max's mind was woven. Max sat cross-legged by a small and crackling fire that was lit in the worn-down fireplace of their rather cozy home. Leaning against him was the small body of the little girl—his _sister_—and curled up on his lap was the family cat, Mittens. Sitting behind him on chairs were his mother and father. All in all, a Christmas card-worthy picture was painted. Max stared into the fireplace, aware of the warmth of his sister's body against his, as well as Mittens'. He saw images in the fire, images of cheering fans, bright lights, himself in a regal-looking suit holding the American flag, a flying whirlwind of poker cards, a fancy mahogany desk (he was never quite sure what he wanted to be as a child—magician or president?) Max was daydreaming within his dream, and the quiet moment by the fireplace felt warm, safe, and picture-perfect.

That was when Moe the clown came tumbling in on a unicycle.

* * *

><p>Hahahaha, I just had to put that last line in there XD You all remember Max's real name is Billy Bob Johns, right? His true country bumpkin nature inspired me to write this dream for him.<p>

I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Reviews will be greatly appreciated! Your kind words seriously make my day! :D

~GrapePudding


	3. Crimson

Dammit, this update came later than I expected. I planned to get this chapter up a lot sooner, but schoolwork has been hindering me.

Here is, as requested by SierraSilver, Lang's nightmare! Thanks so much for requesting. :D This is not necessarily his _worst_ nightmare, per se, but it's definitely _a_ nightmare :P

I tried to do something different for this chapter. I'm really way out of my league for this sort of writing, but I don't think it turned out as terrible as it could've. I hope you guys don't get bored by this! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Ace Attorney. D:

Rated T.

* * *

><p>A dense mist hung over the cool, still air. Snow was falling softly—peacefully, even—while a thin pure white sheet already blanketed the uneven forest floor. The whispers of his paws against the snow were the only sounds that could be heard. Otherwise, all was quiet, silent—eerily so.<p>

The ears of the large sandy wolf gave the slightest twitch. Something was missing. The whistling of the wind, the subtle sounds of snow hitting the ground, the faint rustling of leaves—all the familiar forest sounds that should have been detected by his sharp ears were absent. If the wolf had bothered to look behind him as he moved deeper into the woods, he would have discovered that his paws left no imprint on the still-pristine snow.

Every moment lasted an eon. Slowly, greens began melting into greys, but the wolf didn't notice.

He prowled through the endless sea of trees, ignoring a vague feeling of déjà vu tugging at the corners of his mind.

The mist began to thicken, forming an oppressive blanket of dark clouds pressing down on the scene. In his peripheral vision, the wolf caught a spot of crimson smeared on a boulder, the only splash of colour in a forest of grey. A lump of dread formed in his throat, but he continued into the trees, his eyes almost seeming apathetic. More splashes of red appeared in the forest path, always only visible from the corners of his eyes. His sense of dread deepened with the appearance of each one.

A muted wind played with his sandy fur. His eyes tightened and his pace quickened. The reds became more frequent. The wolf broke into a running gait as he at last realized what was wrong, what his subconscious was trying to warn him of. The forest was not only devoid of sound, but of life as well. Why was he the sole wolf in this ocean of nothingness?

_A wolf is nothing without his pack. _Where was his pack?

He broke through the trees into a meadow. The snow was artfully stained by the dark red substance that he had been unconsciously following through the forest. Whereas before there were only traces which he could not even look at directly, now the red painted the entire white canvas of snow. Its distinctive fragrance was finally present, assaulting his sense of smell.

_Blood..._

His eyes darted around the snowy meadow, panic replacing dread. Overhead, the clouds were long gone, and in their stead was a clear night sky dotted with stars. A glowing full moon illuminated his surroundings. His fur bristled with apprehension. His pack... His brothers, where were they?

Only what seemed like eternities later did his hazel eyes finally settle on the one other animal in the meadow; a smaller white wolf, cloaked in moonlight. Her dull crimson eyes gazed at him, as though she had been watching him the entire time, had been waiting for him before he knew he was coming. For a single heartbeat, he felt his fears subside in realizing her presence. Then he noticed the unmistakable red streaking her maw, the red dripping from her claws. Her eyes glowed brighter.

_Blood..._

The world tilted sideways. With a sickening lurch, he realized he knew what happened to his brothers, what the blood meant. He had known all along...

Bloodlust tinged the edges of his vision. His body shuddered as overwhelming rage and betrayal rippled through him. The white wolf watched him in amusement, her crimson eyes glittering devilishly. A low growl escaped his lips, piercing the ominous quiet.

She bared her teeth at him, until she was wearing almost a sort of sadistic smile. Her eyes seemed to invite him forward. His breath coming in uneven pants, his muscles tensed and bunched in preparation. The white wolf's figure began blurring from his vision. Every fibre of his being seemed to be resisting, fighting against him, as he shifted into a viciously familiar stance.

Bloodlust overcoming him, he lunged, his eyes still trained on hers.

Then... _red._

The image shattered.

()

Agent Lang's eyes flew open, whilst the rest of his body remained still and tense.

Even as the dream began to fade from his mind, a familiar haunting laugh resounded in his eardrums.

* * *

><p>Thanks, guys, for reviewingfavouriting/subscribing! I hope this didn't disappoint too badly. Review, please! :)

~GrapePudding


End file.
